


we've been down that road before

by soniclipstick (veriscence)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Arthur Pendragon Needs a Hug, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining Arthur, Reincarnation, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/pseuds/soniclipstick
Summary: Arthur sports a neon orange crown made of cardboard. Their daughter, with her rainbow coloured blanket-turned-cape, pink crown and toilet paper roll sword, is safe in his arms. Around Arthur's shoulders, a ruby red blanket serves as a cape. It flares and swoops as they spin around and around.It’s missing a golden dragon on the left shoulder, Merlin thinks offhandedly.And then Merlin remembers.





	we've been down that road before

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Heaven by Bryan Adams. 
> 
> Please be gentle with me, this is my first Merthur fic. I just rewatched everything over a two week period and desperately needed to right this. 
> 
> Thanks to Rachel for the wonderful beta job!:)

_January 2019_

It’s a little past seven on a bitingly cold Sunday morning when Merlin Pendragon comes home from a gruelling 12-hour shift in the ER. He treads up the North London side street and opens the gate to his townhouse. He trudges up the stairs to the door with the chipped red paint, hands in his pockets. He’s been meaning to repaint it, but his husband’s adamant that the outside of the house not look too nice, in case robbers get any ideas. It doesn’t matter that Merlin’s lived here as long as he can remember, and they’ve never had any problems here. This house has been Pendragon-owned for generations. According to the deed, an Emrys Pendragon in the 15th century bought this home for his family. Merlin had lived here because it belonged to him and rent in London was hellish, but it had always been too big — too empty — to be a home. Well, not anymore.

The bottom blinds on the hexagonal bay windows to Merlin’s left remain closed, the top ones open to let in some light. It’s an old house, and the laughter emanating from the room floats out of the brinks and into Merlin’s ears. He smiles and reaches into his pocket to get his keys and – oh.

He’s gone and left home without them last night. He looks around. It’s too early for his neighbours to be out in the first place, but you can never be too careful. There is no one to be seen, so instead he smirks, lets out a deep breath and concentrates. The door clicks open and he walks in. He allows himself a quick glance at the large mirror on the wall to the right of the hallway to make sure his eyes are no longer gold, and then he kicks his shoes off and throws his jacket over the volute of the stairs. His missing keys had been found by Arthur and placed inside the key bowl. Merlin picks them up and drops them just outside the bowl.

He turns around, opens the double doors and laughs as both Arthur and Lorelei startle comically. Now, his daughter is all of three years and two months of age and can’t be blamed. But Arthur has no excuse. “Good morning, family.”

“Daddy!” Lorelei drops her magic wand, throwing the sparkly plastic tube at Arthur’s foot rather forcefully going by his pained expression, and runs toward Merlin. He bends down to scoop her up and place her on his hip.

“Did you sleep well, lovely?”

“I did! I had a dream that I was a prince and we fought a dragon and then we took its candy hoard!” She tells him. “Then I woke up and now Papa and I are making crowns, because he has to be king.”

“Is that right?”

“Well, I’m a prince, so he has to be king, because he’s my Papa.” She babbles as Merlin moves towards Arthur, closer and closer until he can lean against Arthur’s steady frame. His husband indulges him. Arthur presses his mouth against Merlin’s cheek as he throws his arms around Merlin and Lorelei both. “And then we’re going to fight monsters together!”

“And how ready are you for monsters? Have you eaten a big breakfast yet?”

“Nope! But Papa made a whole bowl of pancake batter. Pancakes, Daddy!” She’s had enough of his clinging, so she twists out of his arms. Merlin puts her down before she falls, and she runs to the kitchen.

“How did you get in?” Arthur asks in his ear, one broad hand splayed over Merlin’s lower back.

“With my keys, you prat.”

“I could have sworn I saw them here last night.”

“You’re growing old, Pendragon, I just put them right there,” He nods his head towards the keys on the cabinet behind them.

“You’re right. I would have actually put them _inside_ the bowl, where they belong.”

“Bugger off, it’s my house,” Merlin tells him. But there’s no heat in the statement, and if there had been any, it’s sweetened by the slow, lingering kiss he leans in to gift Arthur with.

“Daddy! Can you stop being gross with Papa and come help me, please? I can’t reach the stove!”

“Great. You get to be the king and I’m relegated to what, her manservant?”

Arthur huffs. “You’d be a terrible manservant,” he retorts before calling out to Lorelei, “Yes, your highness! Pancakes pronto.”

\---

_Spring 2009_

Arthur Bradley is twenty-one years old, finishing his final year of an undergraduate degree in environmental and international policy at Imperial College London, sitting in a café and trying to fill himself with so much coffee that his methods section will just write itself. He’s about to get up for another round of caffeine, fingers almost vibrating from the current intake. And that’s when he sees her. Guinevere, sitting alone at a round table near the front of the café, drinking coffee and reading a book.

The memories slide smoothly back into place, as Arthur remembers everything.

He gets up suddenly and nearly damages his laptop when his headphones are jarred out of the socket. She doesn’t notice it. She’s more focused on the front door that has just opened and let in Lancelot and a baby screaming bloody murder wrapped in a papoose to his front. Gwen smiles as he passes the baby to her. It’s the happiest Arthur has ever seen Gwen.

He sits back down and begins to pack his things up. His bachelor thesis suddenly doesn’t seem as important as getting out of there. If he himself only remembered when he saw her, she still might not know what they used to mean to each other. He won’t bring up things better left forgotten. He means to throw his bag over his shoulder and leave through the backdoor, when a steady hand catches his elbow.

“Arthur?”

Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, following the tug of the hand until he’s facing the questioning voice. “Lancelot.”

“Arthur!” He hears Gwen’s voice over the sound of the wind being knocked out of him as Lancelot throws his arms around him and holds him tight.

\---

“When did you meet each other?”

“First year of university,” Gwen tells him. Gwen rocks Griffin, her son, _Lancelot’s_ son, in her lap. He’s all warm brown eyes and a gummy grin. Arthur can’t help but smile back. Somehow it doesn’t hurt like Arthur thought it would, to sit at a table with Gwen and Lancelot. Yes, she was his wife, but that seems like a long time ago, like a history book covered in dust and cobwebs. “That was also the year we met Percival.”

“Is that how you remembered Camelot?”

“No, actually,” Gwen says. Her voice is measured, wary to some degree. “I remembered when I met Merlin on the first day of uni, Lancelot found me three months later.”

Arthur’s heart feels like it’s frozen still. _Merlin._ Merlin’s here.

“Merlin’s here? In London?” Arthur _needs_ to see Merlin. He needs to see that face, one he didn’t know an hour ago, but is suddenly filling his mind in a vision of alabaster skin and cornflower blue eyes, and _magic._

Gwen and Lancelot share a look. It’s the kind his parents used to share, one that tells Arthur that they’re having a whole conversation between themselves.

“Arthur listen,” Gwen begins. “Merlin, he’s different.”

“Well, so are you and Lancelot,” Arthur digs the heel of his palms into his eyes. He can’t wipe out the image of a weeping Merlin, begging Arthur to stay with him, holding him until the very end, when Arthur could no longer feel the scalding heat of Merlin’s tears on his face. “Where is he?”

“He lives up in Highgate, but Arthur listen to me, he doesn’t remember,” Gwen says each word clearly, but Arthur doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t remember?”

“He saw me, Lance, Perce and Gwaine, none of us could make him remember. He’s got no idea what we are, what we mean to each other.”

“Let me meet him.”

\---

Merlin meets Arthur on a Sunday morning. He’s nursing his third cup of coffee in as many hours and waiting for Gwen. They’ve finished their studies and are officially doctors now, but despite working in the same ward in the same hospital, they’ve been on opposite shifts for two weeks straight. Between that, and Gwen having a 14-month old terror at home, they haven’t had the chance to sit down and talk in nearly a month. Gwen is Merlin’s oldest friend. They’d met in first year orientation and something about Merlin’s oddness had endeared Gwen to him. He’s looking forward to seeing her.  

But this time, she’s not alone, she introduces Arthur with nervousness. It takes a second before Merlin realises that she’s setting him up, but he can’t complain because he looks at Arthur and his heart feels full, his throat closes up.

“Arthur’s majoring in environmental policy,” Gwen says.

“I guess you’re one of those world-saving types, eh,” Merlin croaks. He wonders if he’s having an allergic reaction, but he hasn’t eaten anything that could trigger a reaction and now he’s confused.

Arthur smiles, but it’s disappointed smile. “I’m going to get a coffee. Can I get you two anything?”

“A latte macchiato, thanks,” Gwen says, and Merlin shakes his head. Arthur leaves.

“Sunday brunches are _sacred,_ and you decide to play matchmaker?” Merlin whispers viciously.

Gwen just rolls her eyes. “Arthur’s… a childhood friend. I saw him in London and we decided to catch up. You’ll like him.”

\---

_Summer 2009_

Merlin’s resolved not to crush on Arthur because he’s not really looking forward to a gloating Guinevere. It’s easy at first. Arthur is the heir to Albion Petroleum, a global oil and gas “supermajor”, who doesn’t know how to say please and thank you. He’s spoiled and entitled and genuinely one of the most annoying people that Merlin’s ever met. And suddenly he’s everywhere.

But when Arthur smiles, he has crows’ feet and his teeth are just a little crooked. It’s unexpected sunshine on a dreary London morning. And his father might be an evil oil magnate but Arthur’s studying environmental policy and determined to run the company differently. Gwen asked him to babysit Griffin once and Arthur bought three books on parenting and was so good that Lancelot asked him, rather seriously, if he didn’t want to give up on his crusade to save the world and instead work as a nanny.

\---

Arthur looks at Merlin like he wants to devour him but if Merlin so much as touches Arthur’s shoulder he flinches. They end up crashing at Merlin’s place after a night out in Soho and Arthur watches him in rapture when he pulls off his shirt and trousers, but when Merlin tries to decide if he’s drunk enough to proposition him, Arthur instead flees to the guest room.

It’s been two months of this. One of these days, either Merlin is just going to jump him, or Arthur’s going to have one of those anime nosebleeds.

\---

_Autumn 2016_

“You must all think me a horrible person,” Arthur says. He’s sitting on the couch with Leon, his daughter asleep on his friend’s chest. _The Blue Planet_ plays in the background. Lorelei is used to sleeping on Merlin’s chest, but as its his first day back at work, Arthur has had to come up with novel ways to coax the baby to sleep. He’s not offended that she prefers Merlin, because honestly, he prefers Merlin’s chest to a pillow too.

But Gwen and Lancelot are in Greece for the next two weeks and Arthur isn’t desperate enough to ask Gwaine and Percival for help. Leon, on the other hand, he’s less embarrassed to call. Gwen and Lance trusted him with Griffin and seeing as he’s in school and Leon had nowhere else to be, he’d been happy to come over and listen to Arthur moan. All they’ve learned so far is that Lorelei definitely inherited Arthur’s royal preferences. She likes her Daddy better than Papa, but she’ll settle for Uncle Leon if David Attenborough’s telling her all about horrifying deep sea fish.

“What, why?”  

“All of you. You never said anything when we got married but he still had the option of divorce. Now we have Lorelei and even if Merlin remembers and wants to leave, he won’t, for her sake. I’ve trapped him.” Arthur looks at his daughter, at her plump cheeks and little blonde lashes.

“Arthur, you didn’t force him to marry you. He wanted it.”

“He wants this Arthur, the one who’s a policy maker and a paper pusher, not Arthur the King, not me, not really.”

“But Arthur, you could have stopped studying environmental policy, you could have joined the army or something else when you remembered everything. Why didn’t you?” Leon whispers as Lorelei whimpers, threatening to wake up.

“Because I truly believe that climate change is the biggest threat to Albion, to the world, I couldn’t just abandon my work,” Arthur says. “It needs to be done.”

“But you started studying that before you even knew you were King Arthur. You saw the need,” Leon replies. “Gwen wanted to help people, so she became a doctor. Lancelot wanted to be a knight of Camelot, so he served in Iraq and then became a police officer. Gwaine wanted to fight the _Man,_ as it were, so he’s a journalist. Do I need to go on? Those choices were made before any of them remembered who they were.”

“Well, why are you working as a travelling photographer?” Arthur asks.

“I’m not,” Leon replies. “I’m MI6.”

“What?!” Arthur’s exclamation wakes up a wrathful-looking Lorelei, who glares at Arthur. “Oh, I’m sorry love, here, let me take her.” He picks her up and she smacks him in the face, then catches his lips with her little fingers. Her nails need clipping. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re a _spy_? Are you having me on for a laugh?”

Leon shakes his head with a smile. “Technically, you’re not supposed to know, so please let’s keep it that way.”

“What is happening.” Leon gives him a moment to take it in. “Wait, why are you telling me this?”

Leon looks at him earnestly with those piercing gray eyes of his. “Because you’re my king.”

For a moment, he’s so touched his throat refuses to work. Then Arthur nods. Leon takes it as his cue to continue.

“Arthur, we’re the same people. So is Merlin. He’s just forgotten a few things. But the heart of who he is has never changed. He’s the man who loves you, who always loved you.”

Merlin, who had protected him for all those years, without ever demanding acknowledgement or reward. Merlin, who had stood by him when his father had disowned him for working for the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Merlin, who had wrapped his knuckles after that argument had turned physical.

“He named himself a Pendragon, Arthur, and that was what, at least four hundred years ago? And he kissed you first, didn’t he? He chose you, first, not the other way around. And remind me, did you force him to become a father?”

Arthur looks at the top of Lorelei’s head. “He wanted children so badly, Leon. How was I supposed to say no? I should have said no.” He kisses her crown. She has her fingers wrapped tightly around his collar and his heart.

“You never forced him to, Arthur.”

“None of this would have happened, if he remembered.”

“You’re right, if he’d remembered, you’d have danced around each other for another ten years.” Leon places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Look, you have to stop punishing yourself like this. He’s happy. You’ve made him happy. And when he remembers, he will remember that too.”

“And if he never remembers?”

“Then you will have made him a very happy man for a second lifetime.”

Arthur decides to let it go.

\---

When Merlin comes home, the house is clean, and dinner is being kept warm in the oven. He goes upstairs to find Lorelei asleep and Arthur in the shower. “Did you hire a nanny?” He asks as he pulls his clothes off and opens the shower curtain. Arthur grabs him by the hips and presses a kiss to his mouth, then the corner of his lips.

“Close. I got Leon.”

“Oh, thank God, I was afraid you’d called Gwaine.”

Merlin can feel the smile that blooms on Arthur’s face. Arthur maneuvers him in the shower until he’s right under the water. “Arthur, that’s too hot!”

“Shut up, turn around and pass me the shampoo.”

He lets Arthur massage shampoo into his scalp and wash it out, then grabs the bottle of shampoo. “I already washed my hair, scrub my back.” Arthur hands him the bath pouf and turns around. Merlin just looks for a minute, the hot water hitting his own aching back. Arthur’s back is a haven — Merlin takes a step away from the glorious shower spray and presses his chest against it — Arthur leans his head back into Merlin’s shoulder and presses their cheeks together. “How was your first day back?”

“Weird without Gwen, I can’t wait for her to be back.”

“Nothing too bad then?”

“Well, except the 4-year-old that swallowed over twenty magnets – wait, this mole’s changed colour.”

“What?” Arthur tries to turn around.

“Stop it, I’m trying to have a look at this damn mole,” Merlin pushes him around and has a look at the small mass between his shoulder and neck. “This definitely changed colour, I’m booking you an appointment with the dermatologist.”

“Merlin, we need to hide the magnets.” Arthur says, as Merlin finally starts to scrub his back and check for other moles. They’re harmless, unless they’re not, and Arthur’s got a whole collection of freckles and moles on his back that Merlin’s got perfectly catalogued. The others all seem to look the same though.

“Lorelei is two months old, she is not going to eat the magnets. Turn around, let me see the ones on your shoulder.” Arthur obeys.

“Merlin, are you ever going to stop worry about me?”

Merlin runs his fingers over the ones near his clavicle. They come to rest as a palm over his heart. Merlin looks up at Arthur, water dripping from his jaw. “Never.”

“Well, I love you too,” Arthur says. “Now hurry up, because that daughter of yours is bound to wake up and wail any minute.”

\---

_January 2019_

Merlin wakes up a little past noon to soft giggles coming from Lorelei’s room. He takes the comforter with him — this old house never heats up properly — and walks down the second-floor stairs to the small level where Lorelei’s bedroom has been shoved in. The door is closed, likely to let Merlin sleep, so he knocks gently and walks in.

They’re swinging around and around. Lorelei, in her rainbow coloured blanket-turned-cape, a pink crown and a sword made of toilet paper rolls, is safe in the arms of her father who is clearly meant to be the king. Arthur sports a neon orange crown made of cardboard. Around his shoulders, Lorelei’s ruby red blanket serves as a cape. It flares and swoops as Arthur spins Lorelei around.

It’s missing a golden dragon on the left shoulder, he thinks offhandedly.

And then Merlin remembers.

\---

_New Year’s, 2010_

It’s technically a Sunday when Merlin kisses Arthur. The clock chimed midnight a few minutes ago and the new year has begun. They’re all in Gwen and Lance’s house, up on the roof of the townhouse watching fireworks, even little Griffin, whose sleep-soft eyes are wide open as he watches the lights. The family of three share a big hug to welcome in January 1st, while Percival and Gwaine are trying to absorb each other via tongue. If they don’t stop, Gwen going to push one of them off the balcony. Leon is leaning against the rails of the corner of the balcony, eyes trailing after the fireworks.  

Arthur kisses back for all of three seconds before he pulls away. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the new year, Arthur, haven’t you heard of traditions?” Merlin replies with a smirk on his face.

“Well, now I’m offended,” Leon calls out. “Where’s my kiss?”

“I’ll kiss you, Uncle Leon,” Griffin calls out and the others laugh.

Arthur doesn’t. Fierce, inescapable jealousy burns through Arthur like a wildfire at the idea of Merlin kissing Leon, of Merlin kissing anyone else. And then a hard realisation a millennium and a half in the making hits him like an avalanche. Merlin, thankfully, is blushing and flirting with Leon, no longer looking at Arthur, and that is such a relief, because he's sure that his face would betray him.

Arthur loves Merlin ferociously.

That is not the discovery that is shaking his world, he has always loved Merlin, his only friend. Merlin was his right-hand, his brother-in-arms until truly the bitter end. And he loves this Merlin, who, for all his lack of memories, is just as sharp-witted, stubborn and lacking in decorum as he was then. He’s still kind, generous, and so naïvely stupid that Arthur’s afraid he’ll lose him to some idiotic stunt like the one that had resulted in Merlin causing the ire of tens of thousands of Londoners by getting his arm stuck in a tube door, and at rush hour at that. Because Merlin had gone right to work afterwards, treating half-a-dozen patients before another attending realized that he was working with a broken arm. The _idiot._

Merlin has been around all the people in this balcony for years if one counts Gwen and Lance, and he still has no memory of Camelot, of Arthur, of who he really is, of who they really are. To Merlin, Arthur is his friend of six months, some rich kid who can afford to go to college to study something that will earn him ire and no bread, because his family will provide it. To Arthur, Merlin was an incompetent manservant turned friend and confidant, who knew him better that his own wife did. To Arthur, Merlin has been the single most important person, in both lives.

But it’s 2010. Gwen is married to Lance and Merlin looks at Arthur and can’t even see what’s before his eyes. Which is only fair as Arthur’s been looking at Merlin for years and only now realised that he’s desperately in love with a hurricane that dares to call itself a man.

They’re all still laughing when Merlin turns back to him and raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to kiss me again or are you trying to reach some kind of staring record?”

And Arthur — gods, old and new help him — kisses Merlin.

\---

One day, Merlin might wake up and realise that Arthur’s been lying to him for years, but then Arthur tells himself that if Arthur could forgive Merlin for lying to him about magic for ten years, Merlin will forgive him right back.

He has to, Arthur thinks, three weeks into January when he presses Merlin down on the bed and gives him everything that Arthur is.

He feels unworthy.

\---

_Autumn 2010_

They’re lying together on Merlin’s antique bed with the wrought-iron frames, Merlin’s cold ankles against Arthur’s calves. Arthur’s fast asleep, his arms wrapped around Merlin too tight for comfort, but Merlin’s can’t complain. He likes these moments, when they’re together and Arthur doesn’t look sad.

Merlin wonders what’s happening to them. It’s been a whirlwind romance, Merlin is embarrassed to admit. A few months after their first kiss, Arthur practically lives in his house, though only unofficially. Arthur’s navy ICL hoodie has been appropriated by Merlin, and there’s a mildly passive aggressive binder clip on his toothpaste that’s supposed to discourage him from squeezing the middle of the tube, not that it’s working.

A year, that’s how long they’ve known each other, but it’s eerie how easily they can fit their lives into one another’s.

The sun is rising slowly. Merlin’s got late shift but if Arthur doesn’t wake up soon, he won’t make it to the library and then he’ll have to study at one of the tables in the hallways of the campus, which he hates. He wriggles out of Arthur’s arms, covers him with the blanket and climbs out of bed. He wraps himself in his bathrobe and gingerly takes the stairs down to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

A few minutes later, he’s going right back up the stairs with two cups of tea and a packet of digestives on a breakfast tray. He sets it on one side of the bed, and carefully peels back the layers of blankets and duvets covering Arthur, who’s face has formed a frown. Merlin places both hands on his face and presses his mouth to Arthur’s, who kisses back with a growl. “Why are your fingers always so cold?”

“The better to wake you with, love,” Merlin pulls back. “Sit up and drink some tea.”

“Thanks.” They sit with their backs against the bed frame, drinking their tea and eating biscuits for breakfast because Merlin’s on day six of his eight-day rotation and there’s a chance that the contents of his fridge have become sentient. Merlin has the packet in his hands and routinely hands Arthur a biscuit as he finishes the next one. Then they’re all gone and there’s only one more thing left to give Arthur.

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“This is not a biscuit.”

“Excellent observation.”

“This is a key.”

“Indeed. At least I don’t need to call the ophthalmologist.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin sets his mug on the bedside table and turns to face Arthur. “Just move in, you’re practically here everyday anyway.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to satisfy Arthur, who sets his own mug aside and grabs him by the hips and manhandles him into Arthur’s lap.

“My place is closer to campus.”

“Yet you’ve been here for the last five days. You keep stretching out my shirts and I’m out of underwear, because I don’t own enough for two people. Move in. And bring your clothes.”

Arthur stares at him for a moment, then tightens his grip on Merlin’s hips as he kisses him, hard. “Okay.” Then he reaches for Merlin’s bathrobe, and Merlin’s shies out of the way, or well, he tries. Arthur’s grip is iron-clad.

“You don’t have the time, Arthur!” Merlin grabs the hand that’s reaching for his pyjama pants.

“Well then why did you spring this on me now?” Arthur growls, pushing Merlin down on the bed and caging him in with his arms.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, so you’d have a key to come in with tonight, let me go, you’re meeting your thesis supervisor today – ” Merlin gasps as Arthur nips at his clavicle. “You caveman, get off of me!”

“For once in your life just shut up and let me suck your cock already,” Arthur tells him, unbuttoning Merlin’s shirt and twisting a sensitive nipple with nimble fingers.

\---

Arthur calls in sick.

\---

_Spring 2011_

Arthur completes his master’s thesis with first class honours and is offered an internship with the IPCC.

They’re in the kitchen, it’s nearly 2 am and Arthur wonders if hangover can hit you before you go to sleep. Merlin is pouring tea.

“Never, ever, _ever,_ let me go out anywhere with Gwaine, ever again,” Arthur tells him when he hands over the hot mug. He set it down on the table he’s been leaning against and pulls Merlin close. “Thank you, Merlin.” He tries to say that as often as he can. If he’s lucky, he’ll manage to say it enough sometime next lifetime.

“You’re welcome. Sorry we’re out of sugar.”

“Not for the tea, dummy,” Arthur laughs, placing a hand over the back of Merlin’s head. “For being there for me. I know I’ve been horrible the last few months. No one should ever start dating someone in grad school.”

“I know, I still can’t believe I haven’t kicked you out yet,” Merlin mumbles into his neck. They stay like that, waiting for their tea to cool down some more, Arthur too reluctant to let go of Merlin. “Arthur, are you happy?”

Arthur breathes it in and smiles against Merlin hair. His lover smells like cloves and ginger. Like cardamom and all the other spices that he dumps into the tea to make a “proper” chai. “Yes, I am. Are you?”

Merlin sneaks his permanently cold palms under the back of his shirt and splays them over his lower back. “Course I am. I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

\---

_Summer 2014_

Merlin gasps into his husband’s mouth, sated and still short of breath. Arthur sits cross-legged, and Merlin fits perfectly in his arms, his legs thrown over Arthur’s shoulders. Merlin’s oversensitive body promises pain in the morning but for now, they’ve reached perfection. Arthur’s floppy hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. It tickles Merlin’s knees.

He realises the crash of glass was the explosion of their antique lamp, and quickly levitates the pieces together before Arthur notices. One of these days, he’s going to have to figure out how to tell Arthur about these weird tricks he can do. But for now, Arthur’s still inside of him, shaking from the effort not to thrust in.

“Arthur Pendragon, fuck me already,” Merlin says. Arthur fixes him with that piercing stare of his and nips at his lips before moving. He wraps his arms tightly around his waist and Merlin has mercy and grinds down on him until he’s shuddering his release into him. Arthur gasps kisses onto Merlin’s face, until Merlin realises, no, he’s sobbing.

“Arthur? Arthur, what’s wrong?” Merlin asks, locked in position, but he tries to hold Arthur’s head, burrowing into Merlin’s shoulder. He runs his fingers through his husband’s damp hair, his other hand on his neck.

“Merlin, Merlin, promise me something,” Arthur finally speaks.

“What is it?”

“Forgive me when I fail you?” Arthur asks. “Love me still when I’ve been an idiot?”

“You… you dollop-head!” Arthur laughs at the insult, but Merlin wants to hit him up the head. “You’re being an idiot now and I still love you, stop being such a drama queen.”

“Merlin, please.”

“Yes, Arthur, I’ll forgive you if you fail me, whatever that means.”

Arthur calms down. He presses his mouth to Merlin’s chin, his cheekbone, his brow. “I always ask too much of you.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. Just hold me. Please?”

Wordlessly, Merlin untangles himself from their embrace and lays down on the bed, holding his arms out for Arthur. They settle down with the blankets over them, Arthur’s comforting weight pressing down on Merlin, slow puffs of his breath over Merlin’s heart.

\---

_January 2019_

“She’s going to vomit if you keep doing that,” Merlin says, leaning against the frame of Lorelei’s door.

Arthur smiles and complies, slowly coming around to a stop, setting Lorelei on the ground and bowing. “My lady.”

“Thank you, your highness!” Lorelei curtsies, and in the process passes wind. “I have to poo!” She declares, then runs off. Arthur chuckles, then looks up to face Merlin.

The recognition must be clear on Merlin’s face because suddenly there’s a look of fear and uncertainty that Merlin hasn’t seen on Arthur since that time all those centuries ago, when he’d revealed his magic to him.

“Merlin.”

“Sire.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asks softly. “Do you remember who I am?”

Merlin tilts his head at Arthur, catches the fear and shame in his eyes. He takes the three steps that bring him directly in front of Arthur and holds his face in his hands. Against his mouth, he whispers, “Oh, I know who you are.”

Arthur trembles. “Good.”

“You’re a prat. And a royal one,” Merlin says, and he claims him with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
